Is this when to say 'when'?

I find myself in a spot that's unusual for me. I'm uncertain. And because I note that it's unusual, you know I usually just plow ahead, without worrying too much about the consequences. But, at the moment, I find that I'm dragging my feet on a project that I wouldn't usually drag myself to. Instead of getting to work on it, I find myself vacuuming. (!) Washing dishes. Doing laundry. All things that are necessary, and so I can convince myself that they need doing RIGHT NOW.

So here's the thing. I'm looking at this grant proposal, which, if we got it, would be huge. Enormous. Challenging and of national impact. I would more or less devote myself to this effort for the next four years. Everything else would take a backseat, because running this effort would be a full time job, in addition to the half time teaching load that is more or less necessary to keep my actual job. Not to mention committee work. And research with students. Ah. And so there I see the problem, even as I start talking it out, I see what's bothering me. More than 150% time for the next four+ years. Given that 100% time at my job typically means many more than 40 hours per week, 150+% time typically means... well, no time for anything else. Not only that, but I'd be working 150+% time for 130% pay.

Having just done pretty much that for two years, I can tell you that I always felt like I wasn't giving adequate attention to ANYthing I was doing. I always felt a little bit behind. Always not quite ready for class. Always not quite having the homework done before I assigned it. Always having emails piling up, reports slapped together, some purchase or requisition not quite properly tracked or accounted for. Always leaving my tack uncleaned, my clothes unwashed, the dog unwalked, and the bed unmade. Is it too much to ask to have time every day to pull the comforter up? Some days, I didn't have time to take a shower.

And then today, on Radio West, comes this guy: Tom Hodkinson, who wrote 'How to be Idle', and he talked about the Western obsession with work. And he said, 'What if you woke up every morning and thought, 'What shall I do today?'' And I was struck by that. Because here I am on sabbatical, having done some really pretty important work for the last five months. By all rights, I should spend the next five weeks trying to figure out what I would do if I didn't HAVE to do anything. Instead, I'm beating myself up over not really feeling all that gung-ho about taking on a future four years that are going to put me in the same position that made me need the sabbatical so desperately in the first place.

But then, I think about what it would mean to the University and the Department to have this grant come in. It's not everyone here that knows how to do this kind of thing. And I can see it all laid out in steps ahead of me. First, we'd do this, and then we'd do that, and then we'd do this, and then we'd have a finished product that was better than anything that currently exists, and it would really be a big help to teachers everywhere. And I have a big enough ego that I think that maybe we are the only ones who COULD do it. And I have a small enough ego to think that this kind of grant-getting is the most useful thing that I contribute. And I think about what would it mean to have this kind of influx of cash in the current economic climate.

But then I heard this story about someone who got facilities from the University---new space for new offices. But no furniture. Seriously. Not a chair. Not a pencil. Not a stapler. Nothing. And I've been promised that 'we could find the space'. But I never asked about furniture. Because why would I, right? What good are offices without desks? Grant agencies don't pay for furniture. That's supposed to come out of the overhead. That's obvious, right? But in the last grant, I was scavenging furniture from surplus. Do I really want to go through all that sort of thing again?

And maybe I should just worry about keeping the job I already have. I mean, I really, really love my job. Would I love doing this other job as much? Would it be as valuable as being in the classroom? Would I ever find time to walk the dog or ride my pony?

So mostly, I'm just wondering if I've gone completely mad... I guess I feel that applying for the grant means stepping off into a whole other career, in addition (not instead of) the one I already have, and I'm not sure I want to go there. On the other hand, we probably wouldn't get it (those are the odds). But on the other, other hand, if we did, it really would mean a commitment of cosmic proportions, for at least four years. And if I'm not sure I want to make that commitment, should I waste everyone's time by applying?

And isn't this, maybe, one of the whole points of a sabbatical, to step back and try to get some perspective on what you do every day, and what it's good for, and what it's about, and why you do it, and how you could do it better, more authentically? And to try to figure out, maybe just a little, when it's time to say 'when'?

Or maybe I'm just thinking too hard.